You & Me
by TheInternetHomo
Summary: It's the early 1950's, and riots are breaking out all across southern England. Everything that Dan Howell loves seems to be pried away from him by the fates, just as Phil Lester finally breaks free from everything that he hates. Dangerous situations can turn into beautiful things. / Paired with the song You & Me by the Dave Matthews Band / Rated M for gang violence and smut. /


**Title: **You & Me

**Pairing: **Phan (Dan Howell x Phil Lester)

**Summary: **It's the early 1950's, and riots are breaking out all across southern England. Everything that Dan Howell loves seems to be pried away from him by the fates, just as Phil Lester finally breaks free from everything that he hates. Dangerous situations can turn into beautiful things. / Paired with the song You & Me by the Dave Matthews Band / Rated M for gang violence and smut. / Phan

**Part: **1 of 12, plus maybe an epilogue.

**Word Count: **2645 (Long, I know. All chapters will be long.)

**Chapter Lyrics: **

Wanna pack your bags, something small

Take what you need and we'll disappear

Without a trace, we'll be gone, gone

The moon and the stars can follow the car

**A/N: **Well hi! I've had this idea brewing in my head for a while now, and I finally decided to write it. Most of it is planned out and will probably be written, seeing as though this is technically my NaNoWriMo project. It will be updated as frequently as possible. Writing challenges for the story are gladly accepted. (i.e. phrases to use, places to go, etc.) Tripping in Love (my other fic) is still my main priority right now, but I need to write this as well so I don't get bored of writing one thing. I hope you enjoy the first chapter of **You & Me.**

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**DAN**

It's completely dark.

And then it's bright.

A warm, orange glow tickles the outside of my eyelids. It's warm, which is strange. Our apartment has no heat, and it's already mid-September; a chilly time of year of England. My first thought as to where the light source comes rom is the sunrise. Despite our lack of money, my family's small, inner London home has quite the view. The sun is often the factor of our awakening each morning. The light is welcoming.

But unfortunately, the sun does not rise in the dead of night.

I fear to look at the factor that has pulled me out of my dreamland, but somehow, I muster the amount of courage I need to open my eyes.

I mentally count to three in my head.

My eyes flash open.

My world is on fire.

**PHIL**

Growing up in a wealthy family blinds you. You don't realize how hard the real world is, or how difficult it is for certain people to survive. You grow up believing that everyone is fine ad okay, and if they're not, then they're wrong. You can see the people begging on the streets and you don't even pity them. You assume they're fin, and not starving, then you move on. My family has a decent amount of cash, and everyone knows that. We're rich. Filthy rich, really. My elders take pride in their wealth.

I don't, though.

Flaunting that money is like flaunting the breathless bodies that now lie far underground because of my father.

Literally filthy rich.

If I could, I would leave, but I don't have that option, even if I have already moved into my own flat. That was recently too. My parents refused to let me move out until my 20th birthday. It's not even that they're overprotective of me.

They're overprotective to the "family business" is more like it.

Being born into the Lester family means being born into Hell, the most notorious, and money-heavy, gang is southern England. My grandfather must have thought he was clever for thinking up that name. I don't find it clever though. I find it deadly accurate.

"Phil!" A fist pounds on my front door, and a yell passes through it. I automatically identify the voice to be my brother's. A sigh passes my lips as my feet carry me towards the door.

"Yes?" I gently tug on the brass handle, exposing my brother. His eyes are full of life, and it's evident that adrenaline pumps through him.

"Where's your pistol?"

"My what?"

"Your pistol. Where is it?" He takes a step towards me.

I let out a heavy sigh.

"It's in my safe."

"You idiot! Why the hell would you do that?" He spits in my face. Maybe he's insulted that I haven't been using the present he gave me for my birthday.

"You know I don't like guns, or any of this gang stuff at that. I put it away so no one could get it."

He huffs. "Well, I lost mine in a bet, and we're both supposed to meet dad at base." His grin makes me want to vomit. "We're starting another riot."

I shake my head.

"I'm not going."

"Oh, yes you are." He scoffs, grabbing my arm and pushing me into my own home. I shake out of his grip.

"Piss off, Bradley."

"Get your coat and gun and meet me outside in two minutes."

I give him a cold stare until he leaves my flat. I'll comply with the demand to grab my coat, but there's no way in hell that I'm grabbing my gun.

I don't want to be killed with my own gun.

**DAN**

I must move on.

I can't stop. I can't think. I can't breathe. The smoke blinds me and I can no longer contain the coughs that escape my throat.

_C'mon, Dan, keep moving._

_ Right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot,_

_ Yes, just like that. _

Thank god there's only five flights of stairs.

Sarcasm.

My feet move after one another clumsily due to the lack of oxygen going to my brain. The weight of my body leans against the rough and chipping wooden railing, but I don't stop until my foot touches the last step.

A sudden rumbling growls at me from above.

"Shit," I gasp, my mouth hanging open, as my eyes stay glued to the ceiling above me. Cracks blossom like flowers against the walls, tiny flecks of paint and debris fall onto me. The warmth can be felt once again, and the reflection of orange is visible. My instincts kick in, and I run until I reach the ally next to the building. I tilt my head up again once I'm outside. Smoke columns rise up towards the clear blue sky, escaping the building out of every available opening.

It almost looks beautiful.

And then the realization hits.

My family.

I've forgotten them upstairs.

**PHIL**

"Grab him," my father's voice is lazy and bored. Two of his members grab hold of me, making sure I don't move from the minute I get there.

"Is this necessary?" I grumble, not even fighting the forces holding me in place.

"Yes," He nods, smirking ever so slightly. "Bradley!" His eyes light up when my brother enters the room. "Come join us, son!" Bradley rolls his eyes, trying not to look too pleased as he walks in. His hand digs around in his pants pocket before pulling out a thick, brown cigar.

"Why am I here?" I burst out. "You promised I didn't have to aid with any more…riots." I say riots, but I want to say _murders. _My father looks at me and claps his hands together.

"Phil, Phil, Philip, you're here today because I've realized that it's your time."

"Excuse me?" _What? _He looks at me with a hard stare and a huge grin.

"You're eligible."

_ NO. _

My mouth goes completely dry. No, no, no. I had forgotten all about this. I had forgotten what your 20th birthday meant in this family.

"I-I," My eyes dart around the room. I can feel the beads of sweat starting to form under my fringed hair (which my parents did not approve of, saying that it was "too long" and "feminine".) There's no to escape this.

"Look at him! He's speechless!" Bradley laughs idiotically. He may be three years older than I, but I'm a hell of a lot smarter.

My father frowns, his eyes narrowing.

"Of course, though, you need to complete a few…tasks before entr-"

"I'm not joining." I cough out the words, regretting them almost immediately. The men holding me tighten their grip.

He laughs. "What was that?" I can see more people entering the room out of the corner of my eye.

"I'm not joining your little 'killing party', dad." There's more confidence in my voice this time.

"_Oh. _I see." He looks smug, his eyes locking onto mine. "Well, son, I'm only going to allow you two options, then." Bradley isn't smiling any longer. "You can either change your mind, or you can lose the ability to think." I seize up. "You always were a little skeptical, weren't you, Philip?"

"Phil, what are you doing?" Bradley's voice is quiet.

"Quiet, Bradley." My dad snaps, his eyes not leaving mine.

"Stop playing around, Phil." His voice is shaking now.

"I said QUIET."

The room seems to go still. Everyone seems to be holding his or her breath. I don't know how long everyone remains silent.

But the silence doesn't last forever.

My brother's foot comes into contact with my captor's shins in what seems like slow motion. Both men crash to the floor, bringing me down with them.

"Run, Phil!" He screams, jumping down onto the goon on my left. I scramble onto my feet, crouching down and shuffling as soon as the expected gunshots ring out. I serpentine like my father taught me as a young boy. He probably never thought he'd be the one I'd be trying to avoid being shot by. My hands cover the back of my neck and my shirt flies up, exposing my lower back. A bullet misses my right ear by about a centimeter; I can feel it graze my ear. I tear out of the building and head down the street.

There's no way I can return to my home now. I can't even return to my own flat. He'll have sent people there. I'm a dead man walking. I have no choice but to run away, something I've always dreamed about doing.

I'm really going to do it.

I dive into an open-ended, smoky alleyway, my sprint decreasing just slightly. The building next to me is on fire. My arms come to my sides and my neck snaps back to see if anyone follows me. There's no one yet, but I can still hear the gunshots.

And then I'm falling.

My face lands onto the dirt ground, bouncing off ever so slightly. I let out a grunt just as a whimper is heard. I then realize that my feet aren't flat on the ground, but instead on what looks like another person.

The person is crying.

**DAN**

_I'm the worst person in the entire world. I left my family. I left them to die. I'm terrible. I deserve to die, not them. _

Devilish thoughts swirl through my head as I lose my mind in the ally. The sobs wrack through my body, my hands rip my hair out, my legs kick out in front of me. I have no control over myself anymore. I am a madman.

Without any notice, a form crashes into me, knocking me sideways in my craze.

"GET OFF OF ME!" I mentally scream, but no words come out. My throat is tired and raw. I can't go on. I press my face onto the ground and whimper until a pair of strong, but lanky, arms wrap around me. I'm thrown over a shoulder, bouncing up and down as whoever has me runs.

I hope he plans to kill me.

**PHIL**

It's just my luck, really; running into someone just as I'm trying to flee for my life. My instincts kicked in, and I forced myself to help the poor boy I had knocked over in my hurry. Good thing he's not heavy, for I run and run until the sound of bullets no longer echoes off the sides of buildings. I go into the first shop I see, which just so happens to be a small bar that I've been known to visit.

As soon as I step inside, I set the boy down to lean against the wall. He shows no signs of trying to support himself, so I end up placing him in a chair instead.

"Phil!" Marcus, the bartender, shouts my name with a hearty laugh. "Good to see you, m'boy! You haven't been around here lately, have you?"

I shake my head. My eyes must tell my entire story, because the smile on Marcus' face soon drifts away.

"Phil, what's the matter?" He puts down the glass he was polishing and walks from around the bar.

"I did it." Marcus' knew my entire situation. He'll know what I mean. And he does. His mouth drops open.

"Shit,"

"Yeah,"

"Well, you better not be stickin' around here. Your father knows where you come and go." I nod.

"That's the problem. Where do I go?" I try to keep my voice leveled, for I don't want to seem week. Marcus' doesn't even need to think for an answer.

"America,"

"You're crazy." America was too far, too foreign. But then again, it was the said "promise land".

"Am I though? Phil, do you really think your father would waste all that money to send a few of his goons across an entire ocean to find you?" He makes a valid point.

"I guess not, but-"

"No buts. Phil, you need to stay alive."

"I-"

"You can buy ferry tickets for cheap at the docks. If you say you're your fathers son, you might even get a discount."

"I have enough money for tickets," I grumble. Marcus puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Please, Phil. Take your friend-"

"I don't even know him."

"Fair enough, but you need a traveling companion. Take him with you and cross the pond." I stare at the ground before agreeing with the slight tipping of my head. Marcus gives me a bone-crushing hug and I give him 10 pounds for the advice. He deserves it. I grab the lifeless, brown-haired boy and throw him over my shoulder once again.

"Goodbye, Marcus."

"See you, Phil. Be good to yourself, and him."

I exit the bar and take off running once again, but this time towards my flat. I'm already taking a big risk by running away; why not add to the danger?

**DAN**

"Put me down!" I yell urgently as soon as the strange, dark-haired boy enters a small flat. My voice seems to make him jump a bit, but he sets me down right away. I brush the hair out of my eyes and, for the first time, look at him.

I gasp.

**PHIL**

My god, I never did get a good look at him, did I?

**DAN**

He's beautiful.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice is still teary and raw. "Where am I?"

"Phil Le-, I'm Phil." He bites his lip. "This is my flat. And we need to hurry."

"Hurry for what?" I grumble. I want to scream again.

"I'm on the run, and you seemed to have lost everything, so we're going on a little trip."

"How did you-?"

He shrugs. "I'm good at reading people." The word reading triggers me to think of my mother, who almost never put whatever book she was reading down. Tears tickle the corners of my eyes, but I push them back. I'm not crying in front of this stranger. "So, what do you think of America? You want to travel?" It takes me a moment to come up with an answer.

_I really have lost everything, haven't I?_

"I-I'll come with you." I have always been one for adventure. Fight or flight, right?

He smiles, but it looks forced. "Good." He looks at my body and frowns. "Aren't you a bit cold?" I look down at myself, wearing only a grey, cotton top and my dad's old bottoms. My dad. I'm never going to see my dad again, or eat his delicious food that he could only make in private because of domestic ruling. There's no way I'm going to be able to plug of the tears this time. I let the tears run down my face. I bring my hands up to cover them from Phil, not wanting him to think I'm weak.

The next thing that happens, I did not expect.

Phil wraps his arms around me and hugs me tight. We crash to the floor together in my fit of sobbing. He doesn't let go until I've calmed down.

"You're going to be okay." He whispers softly. "You have me, even if you don't have anyone else; even if we've just met. We're a team now." I nod into his expensive-looking top. He pulls me up onto my feet and quickly dashes into a different room, coming out with a suitcase and a sweater with a bear knit into the front. He throws the sweater at me and tells me to put it on. I don't argue. I slip it on over my head. Phil heads towards what I imagine is the kitchen, and emerges with a wad of cash; a literal wad of cash.

"Where did you-?"

"Don't ask." He picks up the suitcase and grabs me by the arm, dragging me out of the flat just as a gun goes off.

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And so, the first chapter of this adventure comes to a close. I almost spelt adventure with an "e". Help me. Please review and I'll love you forever, though I'll love you even if you don't review. It just boosts my confidence.

Also, if anything is historically inaccurate in this chapter, pLEASE TELL ME. I'm writing this in the dead of night with no internet because my parents turn it off before I go to bed.

Thanks for reading! Xx

~TheInternetHomo~


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